Faith
by Mad18Max
Summary: Taylor! she yelled.  A shot rang out, Jackie stopped struggling but Dean didn't let go of her.  The image of the man drowning in the pool faded away.  Suddenly a cloaked figure reappeared.  Silver doesn't kill it!  Get out! Sam yelled.
1. The Vision

Chapter 1: The Vision

There was a woman; she had reddish blonde hair, shoulder length, and heavily layered. She had a round face and dark blue eyes, softened features. Her build was tall, a little broad in her shoulders; but well proportioned. She wore a navy blue trench coat over a white tee-shirt and dark blue jeans, and sneakers.

She was looking for something, poking her head around shrubs. She was clearly in the suburbs, looked like someone's backyard. Something crossed quickly in front of his vantage point, a hunched over figure. A pang went to his heart, the woman was in danger. He wanted to call out to her, tell her to run; but he couldn't.

It was dark must have been midnight or so. The woman was still looking around, chewing resignedly on a piece of gum; but showing no anxiety. Then he caught note of something, she was clutching something in her pocket, by the shape, a gun. She was looking for whatever was hunting her, and she didn't even realize it was after her. She was relaxed, not scared, but her muscles were tensed, ready to react.

Her head jerked to the side when she heard a noise. She pulled the gun from her pocket, holding it close to her body, at her side, she followed the noise.

She came to an outdoor structure; there was a flash of movement inside. She put a hand to the handle of a door. She stood to the side of the door and pushed it open quickly. After a moment, keeping the gun in front of her she sprang into the room. In the center was a pool, steaming in the evening air, despite the purplish cover.

When she spotted the pool she stopped dead in her tracks, her incessant gum chewing ceased, and she lowered her gun.

Another flash of movement, she swallowed and entered the room, reaffirming the gun's position. Her head swiveled from left to right seeking out what had made the noise. She turned her back to the pool searching a side of the room, when she turned back he could see a cloaked figure, standing next to the pool. It was huge and terrifying brandishing a covered hand toward the pool like it was showing it to her.

She gasped and stood frozen in what looked like fear. After a moment he experienced a flicker of pain, and saw a different scene. The cloaked figure was gone as was the pool cover, and instead there was a man drowning in the pool. He had short black hair and bright green eyes. "Jacquelyn, help me!!" he kept calling, his head bobbing above and beneath the water. Another flicker of pain and he saw only the figure.

Suddenly the woman started running toward the pool; dropping the gun and dove in head first. She became tangled in the cover and started to struggle. A few moments later it was over, and her body floated lifelessly to the surface, and the figure dissipated.

Sam Winchester sat stark upright before he even realized what had happened. Dean was on the floor, having just fallen off the bed. Sam was breathing deeply, bathed in sweat.

"Dean what are you doing?" he snapped.

"Trying to wake you up!" he stood up indignantly. "You have another vision?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you see?"

"A-a woman…"

"Was she hot?" Dean asked, slipping into game-face Dean.

Sam looked over at him incredulous. "She was dead!"

"Guess that's a no."

"She was looking for something…"

"Like _some_thing, or some_thing_?"

"The last one. She was looking around outside. She followed it into a pool house and…"

"And what?" Dean asked.

"I saw it again, but she didn't, it was right in front of her, she had a gun but she didn't even shoot at it. Then everything changed and it was like… like I was seeing what she was seeing; but... I don't think it was really there."

"What like a hallucination?" Dean asked.

"Something like that. She saw someone calling to her, drowning in the pool. Then I reverted back to what was really there, and she dove in trying to save him…"

"What did the thing look like?" Dean interrupted.

"Just a figure, tall, covered in black, cloaked."

"Sure you weren't having another Lord of the Rings nightmare?" Dean asked sifting through the information.

"It was not a ring wraith!" he snapped.

Dean laughed, and slipped on his shoes. "Okay John Edwards where we headed?"

"I don't know," Sam answered, throwing back the blankets grabbing his cell phone off the tabletop."

"Wait, nothing?" Dean asked. "No street signs, house addresses, pictures."

"No, it was just a suburb, regular looking. All I saw was a backyard and a pool house."

"So where do we go?" Dean asked.

"She knew she was after something. She knew it was there and I think she knew it wasn't normal."

"So was she a hunter?"

"That's my best guess." He dialed Ellen's number.

It rang four times. "Sam, you better have a damn good reason for calling this early." He had woken her; he glanced at the clock, 3:24, ouch.

"Sorry Ellen, Dean and I are looking for a hunter, we're wondering if you know her."

"Her? Aren't enough women hunters. Are you sure this can't wait until I'm receptive?"

"Ellen I had a vision, she's in danger."

"Know her name," she asked resignedly perking up a little.

"No, she was about 5'11, blonde hair shoulder length, mid twenties, blue eyes, about 130 pounds; weapon of choice was a .45 caliber."

"Sam, I don't…"

"Wait there was a man…well sort of; he had short black hair, maybe 6'2, 170 pounds, bad swimmer." Silence, presumably Ellen thinking. "Wait he called her something... um Jacquelyn?!"

There was silence over the line. "Ellen?"

"Where are you boys?"

"Wyoming."

"She's here, in Nebraska."

"We're on our way."

Sam closed his phone and quickly gathered his things.

"I thought you only had visions about the yellow-eyed demon," Dean said in passing. "You think she could be one of the um…"

"Physics Dean?"

"Yeah, that."

Sam shook his head of sleep and Dean's remark. "I don't know. If she has any abilities she certainly didn't use them to protect herself."

"So you think more are still out there?"

"I don't know. I thought the demon would have gathered them… us altogether in South Dakota; but who knows."

"Isn't that putting all your physics in one basket?" Dean was smiling at how clever he was until he looked at Sam and resumed his normal toughened demeanor.

Sam checked them out while Dean pulled around the Impala. "Where to?" Dean asked.

"We are going to Nebraska."


	2. Jacquelyne Lloyd

The door opened, it was the girl from my vision. Dean noticed my reaction, and took the hint.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked with a pleasant smile.

Dean hesitated, I nudged him. "Hi miss, we're uh looking for a Jacquelyn Lloyd."

I tried not to roll my eyes. The girl who opened the door was pretty, that was enough for Dean. She had her hair pulled back in a red ribbon. The woman wore a white skirt to her knees, a white undershirt and a structured blood red dress shirt on top. I was completely uncomfortable as the adjective came to mind, brick red sounded like a much nicer color at the moment.

Ellen had told us about her friend Jacquelyn. She had been one of the best hunters Ellen had ever seen. Until recently, she had given up hunting. Jacquelyn hadn't said anything to Ellen, just stopped coming to the roadhouse and stopped hunting. Quote on quote, but hunters talk, looked like she was after a vengeful spirit. Ellen had considered sending someone to help her along, my affirmation she needed our help was more than enough for her.

"That's me," said the girl at the door. It was a beautiful house, pretty big. It was on the edge of the development, on a hillside, which left her half a mountain as a backyard and a beautiful view. I couldn't believe anyone who lived like this was ever a hunter.

"Hi Miss Lloyd," said Dean. I thought I saw something flicker across her eyes, a shadow of pain, but it was gone as soon as I'd thought I'd seen it; so I tucked the thought into the back of my mind. Dean hadn't noticed. "Ellen sent us..."

She cocked her head and looked truly exasperated before slamming the door in our faces.

"Ouch," Dean said.

"Maybe this wasn't the best approach," I ventured.

"Ya think?" Dean asked. "But c'mon I am so sick of having to work undercover if this chick was a hunter and is a believer; I'm not trying to hide what we're doing." He knocked again.

"Tell Ellen, bite me!" she called from inside.

"With pleasure, soon as we exorcize, burn remains, banish, shoot rock salt, and call out this ghost."

The door was flung open, "God, I have neighbors," she accused. "You mind keeping the crap to yourself? I don't need the moms rushing their kids past my house, avoiding eye contact."

"How about you invite us inside, and I don't start shouting Jacquelyn Lloyd hunts demons and creatures, as loud as I can?"

I looked incredulously over at him, this was tactful.

"You wouldn't," she accused.

"No! He wouldn't," I intervened.

Dean pulled in a big breath of air, cupping his hands to his lips.

"Fine," she said suddenly.

"Ahh," Dean let out the breath. She spun on her heel.

I smacked him on the shoulder. "Well that was subtle!" I accused. Dean shrugged his shoulders, and let himself in. The place was ornately furnished. Style was a classy with modern touches. She was in a living room, with red furniture and tan walls. She brandished her hand at a couch, Dean and I sat and she sat across from us.

"Look I really do appreciate you both coming all the way down here, but I don't need any help. I've been a hunter since birth! I can take care or a simple haunting."

I remembered what Ellen had said. "She's going to insist she doesn't need help; but that's just because she's too stubborn for her own good."

"Look honestly, this is a favor to Ellen," I lied. "We told her we'd get the job done."

"Why?" she asked me accusingly. "What she tell you?" little red flag there.

"Just that no matter what you said, we needed to stay, and help as best we could," I said, Dean was suddenly quiet, staring at her.

"Damn it Ellen," she muttered to herself. "Look Ellen needs to take her nose out of my business, and not send me her little helpers. I'm not afraid of this."

Ms. Lloyd noticed Dean staring at her, and gave him a challenging look. Dean finally spoke, "look whatever happened that put you from hunter to Martha Stewart in 2.5 seconds, you need our help or Ellen wouldn't have sent us. If we have to, we'll do this by ourselves; we'll just be a lot more irritating."

"Somehow, I can't see that happening," she shot back, her expression set.

"What happened to you anyway Miss Suburbs? Find a cute boyfriend and want to be normal?"

"Dean!" I snapped.

She scoffed, and put raised her voice a few octaves. "Yeah, I just wanted to be normal so badly." Another scoff, "Damn I must be the first gal on the job you've ever come across or you would have had sense beaten into you by now."

"Get tired of the motel fluorescent lighting?" She shook her head incredulously, rolling her eyes.

"Botch a job?" Her face went straight immediately. "There we go, you botched a job, and it put life into perspective for you, right? You saw everything clearly and didn't want to sacrifice the rest of your life, right?"

"Dean that's enough!!" It was like she had slapped him, why was he being such a jerk?

"When really you just got scared out of it; you just wanted an out and there it was, no questions asked," he continued like he hadn't even heard me.

She stood, and pointed "get out of my house."

"Look, we don't…" Dean started.

"Get out," she spoke each word slowly and venomously.

Dean sighed, and stood, I followed.

I should have realized it sooner. Here she was: the hunter who got out of the business, and got a nice house in the burbs. Dean was jealous.

She walked in front of us and opened the door. Dean made one last attempt to redeem himself, as he walked through the door. "Look Miss Lloyd…"

"My name isn't _Miss Lloyd_," she spoke it with disdain; and I think I understood. "It's Romney." She slammed the door in our faces…again.

"Dean what was that?!" I accused.

Dean spun on his heel; and pounded on the door.

"Dean what are you doing?" I asked.


	3. Dean's Story

(Dean POV)

"I'm calling the cops," she called calmly from inside.

"Wait, _Jackie_ Romney? Myle's daughter?"

It was silent for a moment, "how the hell do you know that?"

"Because it's Dean, Dean Winchester." The door opened, she looked shrewdly at us. "You remember. Dean Winchester, and my baby brother Sammy," I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at Sam.

"John's kids," she said simply.

"Yeah, our dad's were in the…"

"…service, division one oh…"

"…nine." I finished.

My mind was sent spinning back over 10 years, we were something like 15, couldn't drive, or stay in one place more than a week.

I think it was Nevada. Our dads were coupling up on an especially difficult job. Sammy was only five or so, some relative, probably a friend of dad's, was watching him during the day, I was hanging around with Dad.

He had told me a little about this guy, more talking to himself than me. "Myles came back from the service and married Candace; but didn't tell her about hunting. Told her he was on business trips," he'd laughed grimly. "When she found out, she left him and his daughter, Jackie. She's about your age." He looked over at me suddenly. "Be nice to her." I knew he meant a lot more than be nice, it was a direct order that she was off limits.

"Yes sir." She didn't have a mom either, least hers just left.

I didn't have to watch Sammy this job, so I got to hang around the town. I had already gotten into a fist fight with some buttheads at the arcade…I'd won.

When Myles pulled up Dad left the hotel room, called me out after him. I'd met Myles before, nice guy, I liked him. Myles was a huge buff guy, not as grim as I'd expected.

"Hey Dean, how you doing?" he asked real friendly.

"Good sir," I shook his hand.

Jacqueline got out of the front seat. "John, Dean, this is my daughter."

She ignored me completely, as she grabbed her own suitcase out of the back and took it into their motel room next to ours. She was tall, quiet, not an amazing looker, but not ugly. Maybe that was just the fact she was off limits talking.

"Sorry John," Myles had said softly. "Her mom sent her another letter." He said like that was a complete explanation. At the time I couldn't understand why that would make her so upset.

"It's fine," my Dad said understandingly.

Later that day, while our dad's were out I'd gone over to the dollar theater, to catch a movie. Then they showed up. Beautiful thing about how we'd lived, only there long enough to cause trouble, gone before it went full circle, and here was the one exception.

It was that guy I'd beat up over at the arcade, crazy kid wanted my quarters, just a bully. Took him down in five minutes, he still had that shiner on his right eye. Now he'd gotten his full gang together, about five of them all together.

"Hey Wimbledon," he walked over, yeah he wasn't too bright.

I tensed up; if I was going down I was going to make him remember my name.

"So, the quarter tax has gone up, all the cash you got on you right now, or else." He had a funny accent too.

I twitched suddenly, he started and the gang tensed up. "Not tough enough to finish that sentence, are ya shinny."

"Tell ya what I'll do better than tell ya, I'll show ya."

I gave him another black eye, and got him on the chin before his cronies caught up. Then it was a painful embarrassing blur. I was so glad my dad wasn't around to see me get taken by these jokers.

Next we were behind the movie theatre, I hurt, and two of his cronies had my arms pinned behind me. He'd just socked me hard in the gut, and I was doubled over, I could hardly breathe, but I wasn't going to give him any satisfaction. If he beat me until I went unconscious, I was going down fighting.

I spit some blood and hit his shoe. "Sorry Godzilla, you're hard to miss." Another one to the gut, then I heard her.

"Five against one, that's fair," she'd said, thoroughly unperturbed. I glanced up and recognized her, I prayed she'd just leave and not tell my dad.

Head bully looked over at her and back at me, grabbing my hair and pulling. "Aw, Wimbledon's got himself a girlfriend."

She laughed, "He wishes." He walked over to her.

"So you're available," wow he was a bright one.

"Brilliant deduction Sherlock; but I don't know…" was she seriously about to make a date with the guy pummeling me? "…_your_ boyfriend over there looks like the jealous type." An incredulous ooh went up from the people watching. Great, Dad was gonna kill me.

What he was about to do I don't know. But he'd barely lifted an arm before she had him pinned in a chicken wing, on the ground.

The group around us looked on at their whimpering leader. No one knew what to do, including me. "Don't you dare try to touch me again, do you understand me?" she was dead serious, and spoke each word slowly as though it would help him to understand, probably did. I recognized the move; she wasn't even holding his arm to hurt him too badly.

"I _will_ break it," even I believed her; "do you understand me?" she asked again.

"Yes, yes," he called out.

"Now tell your pals to let him go," she ordered. Thank God. I was gonna like this chick.

"Do it!" he snapped, and the two pinning my arms let go. I slumped over, rubbing the circulation back into them.

She was still pinning his arm. "Back away slowly," now she was enjoying this. They did what she said.

"Now you are going to leave. And I've had you at my mercy once, don't turn around and think I can't do it again. Understand?"

"Yes, yes!!" he was such a wuss. She gave his arm a particularly painful twist before letting it go.

He had barely backed away before yelling out, "get them!" Damn it.

15 year old thugs came at us from everywhere. I threw a quick punch at someone's head and felt contact with a bone, ouch. One tried to grab me from behind, and at fifteen I actually grabbed his arm and flipped him over me, onto his back wheezing.

The last one was on me; he got a few good punches in, all on the face. I was doubled over a little trying to keep my stomach from getting hit again. Then I tackled him, put everything I had left into throwing this guy over, it worked. Got him on the ground, and punched him in the face until he threw me off and ran.

When I'd gotten mine and turned around, she was getting punched in the gut, by the head hauncho. I was doubled over, I tried to stand, couldn't.

Her eyes were watering badly, she wasn't crying, her eyes were just watering. Before that is she'd stomped on the foot of the guy holding her, and then swung her elbow into his stomach, he had the wind knocked out of him and went over easy. She shook his arms off, and spun around throwing her arm out and whacked him on the head, at which point he just fell over and stopped moving.

I was still grabbing my stomach, trying to stay conscious but I really wished I could have stood up and kicked that guy's ass, se la vi.

She shook off everything, she was relaxed and ready to spring, clearly this wasn't her first fight. She spit some blood off to her side. "Cheap shot, you won't be getting another one of those, unless you got someone else to pin my arms behind me," she stood a little straighter. "Course that's how you do isn't it? Have everyone else hold someone while you sit there and torture them for their lunch money."

That sent him off, he came at her full on, she smiled; she was counting on it. He swung a fist up. She used her arm to make it glance off, then followed him through on it and smacked him on the back of the head.

Now he was pissed, a girl was kicking his butt. I was vaguely aware of one of his buddies getting up and running away. "If you knew who I was…" he started.

"I know exactly who you are! You're a bully!" she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're the kid who gets his buddies together to go throw snowballs at first graders walking home from school. You're the kid who smokes cigarettes on the playground on Friday nights." He went at her again, she was relaxed, sprung out of his way, and threw a foot out so he tripped to the ground before getting back up again.

"You're the one who makes everyone hate being a kid, makes everyone feel small to make yourself feel big; when you can't even hold your own against a girl with a few self defense lessons under her belt. You're the one who needs 4 of his buddies to take out one guy, who you only have to take out, because he stood up to you and wasn't afraid," she glanced over at me, "am I right?"

He went at her again, the next moment was a flurry of fists, before she got his feet out from under him, and got a few kicks to his stomach.

"And I'm the one who called you out and kicked you're butt."

She glanced over at me and walked over. She put a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder. "You okay?" she asked. I grunted. "C'mon," she lifted one of my arms over her shoulders and helped me up. She started to walk us away; but I shook my head and tried to walk on my own, back towards Fat Tony.

I bent down, and grabbed him by the hair none too softly. "Look, you just got your butt kicked by a girl, no offence," over my shoulder, "and a guy who'd taken 6 blows to the gut. I dare you to get an even bigger group and come after me again. But basically, I don't think even you are gonna be stupid enough to not learn the first two times. And uh, shinny, its Winchester," a quick tap of his head to the ground and he was out like a light.

She smiled grimly, like she was impressed. She took my arm over her shoulder again, and let me put a little weight on her. I wasn't even sure where we were going, until we got to the park.

I'd caught our reflection in a store window, while an old lady stared disgracefully at the teenagers limping down the street.

I had a few good bruises, from black to just barely dark; my chin was starting to swell, and I had a split lip. I touched my cheek and winced, she looked like she felt bad.

She'd gotten off better than me; but just barely. Her lip was swelling, she had some pretty good bruises, and she was bleeding out of her mouth, staining her teeth red. She had to constantly keeping spitting out blood.

"What'd you say your name was?" I asked.

"I didn't, it's Jackie Romney. I'm sorry about earlier today," she admitted. "You?"

"Dean Winchester, thanks for back there, that wasn't your fight and you didn't have to get involved." I was going to make it up to her, Winchesters always pay their debts.

"Hey, the fight against bullies belongs to everyone who stands by and lets it happen." At this point I had a feeling she wasn't like other girls our age. "Besides, I should be thanking you, I was afraid I was getting rusty."

I laughed, that was okay. "Hey, if you could have seen the way you were gonna end up, you probably would have preferred letting yourself get rusty."

She laughed, "no way, battle scars, man, battle scars. You gotta earn your stripes." She helped ease me down onto a bench. "Besides, we hunter kids gotta stick together."

"Glad you feel that way," I responded, I put my elbows on my knees. I couldn't even sit up.

"Look at me," she said by the by. I did. She looked me over and sighed wincing, "wow they really got you good."

"Hey you should talk." She smiled sadly and took off her jacket, wetting it from a drinking fountain.

"What that guy did was low, what did you do to him anyway?"

"He was just jealous of my good looks." She laughed again. "I'm really sorry you got beat like that, I shouldn't have let you help."

"Don't think you could have changed my mind. Besides, like my dad says: it's not about winning; it's about fighting like hell so they remember your name. Though I admit I never thought it would be so literal, Wimbledon," she laughed.

I nodded; she and I looked at this the same way. "You gotta stand up for yourself, doesn't even matter if you end up worse off, cause people will remember you for not getting stepped on unless it was literally."

She smiled wickedly, and walked over with the wet jacket, then started wiping the blood and dirt off my face.

"We're screwed aren't we?" I asked.

"Yeah, my dad's gonna kill me," she said consequently.

"We tripped?" I asked. It was code. Every kid who got into a fight with his friends knew what it meant. It meant that no matter what your parents threatened or punished, you said you tripped, and you wouldn't get ratted out.

"Better say _I_ tripped over you, or my dad just might kill you," we laughed, I felt kinda bad she was ruining her jacket.

She pulled back after a moment and sat down next to me. "Anything broken?" she asked.

I wiggled around a little and winced, "nah, I'll live to fight another day."

"Literally I'm guessing," she smiled again, now the blood on her teeth was really weird looking.

"Hey," I took the jacket from her, and she leaned over and let me wipe her face off. The streetlights were going on, time to get home and face the music.

"Think we'll get lucky and maybe our dads won't even notice?" I asked.

"Well mine's not blind, I don't know about yours. But hey this is their fault for teaching us to not get stepped on, right?"

"I don't think they'll see it that way."

My dad wasn't too angry with me getting in a fight. He gave me some bags with ice which I hugged to my stomach with both cold arms. He seemed maybe even a little proud, not that he said anything to that effect. He admonished me for drawing attention to myself, but asked if I'd won. I'd nodded, and he'd smiled. The real hell however came when they both found out the other's kid had gotten in a fight too.

Jackie's dad had practically dragged her into our room and pointed a finger at the couch, where I was sitting. She looked worse now that the injuries had started swelling. Her dad looked pretty stern. I liked the guy; but I'd never seen him like this. My dad didn't look like anything yet, reserving judgment I guessed.

"What happened?" Myles asked.

"We tripped sir," Jackie said insolently, persistently.

"Jackie, don't give me any of this!" he'd snapped, not too loudly.

My dad piped up. "What happened Dean?"

"Like she said," I responded. My dad was looking at me begrudgingly, like he was cornered by some unwritten rule.

"You two do this to each other?" Myles accused.

"No!" we both said at the same time.

"Dean," my dad spoke up, not even angry. "I want you to promise me you didn't start something and get Jackie involved."

I hesitated.

"He didn't sir," Jackie piped up, looking him in the eyes. "He didn't ask me to help him."

"Did you start it Dean?" he'd asked.

"No sir," that much was true, I'd only stood up for myself.

Her dad took a deep breath. "Did you win," he asked impartially. My dad smirked.

"Yes sir," we both responded, a little more enthusiastically.

"You both swear you didn't start this!" he asked starting to relent.

We assented.

"Then I guess we can't punish you for that," he'd admitted after a moment. A car pulled up outside and a knock came at the door.

My dad walked over, smirking at me, to the door. It was Dad's friend dropping off Sammy. He glanced past my dad immediately, looking for me and made a beeline at me. He was still little.

"Hey Sammy," I stood and picked him up.

I was vaguely aware of Jackie and her dad smiling over at me.

"Dean, did you get beat up again?" Sammy asked.

"Nah," I responded, my dad closed the door.

"Then why's your face all purple?" he'd asked, poking at my bruises. I snatched his fingers away before he poked anymore.

"Tell ya when you're older," my fire safe.

"You always say that," he accused.

"Ready Myles?" my dad had asked. He'd nodded, and given Jackie a hug.

"We want you guys to stick together tonight while we go out," he'd told us.

"What do you want tonight?" her dad asked.

"Thompson," she responded excitedly.

"Okay fine," he left the room and returned with the Thompson and a box of shells. My dad handed me an M1 Grand. They gave us hugs and left, reminding us to deadbolt the door.

When they left I put my gun on the kitchen table Jackie put hers against the wall. As a general rule never leave all your arms in the same place, unless you have to. "I grabbed a movie," Jackie offered brandishing it.

That night we watched a movie and fell asleep on the couches. Our dads stayed together another week before splitting us up. I missed her when she left. She was funny, smart, fun to be around, and most importantly she was like me.

I only saw her a few more times sparingly, eventually we lost touch altogether, but I relived that evening, where she'd made a stand with me, many, many times.


	4. An Average Haunting

"Not quite your average haunting." She said pulling out some news articles, printed sheets of paper, and file folders.

"Man, you really do your research," Sam complimented.

"Thanks; but usually I don't. Because that's just it, none of this seems to make sense, I've been looking up every single haunting in the last hundred years, and none of them match."

"Is it a new ghost, someone who's just died?" Dean asked.

"I've also been pulling the files of everyone with violent deaths in the last 20 years." She threw a thick stack of papers at Dean. "Nothing." Sam took the sheet and started leafing through the papers.

"I'll start at the beginning. About three weeks ago, a teenager just coming out of a horror movie reported seeing a 'figure' that looked just like the one from the movie she'd seen. Said it advanced towards her, told her she would be its next victim, then her boyfriend showed up, and it disappeared. No one believed her, for obvious reasons.

Then less than a week later, it showed up again." She handed the brothers a file. "That's the police report."

"How did you…" Sam started to ask.

She put up a hand, "ask me no questions I'll tell you no lies." Dean smiled and opened the file.

"Reportedly, the girl and her boyfriend were having an argument, she got out of her boyfriends car. Said she was going to walk home. He didn't want something to happen to her so he stayed about 20 feet behind her. He lost sight of her, and then he called the cops."

She flipped to a transcription between the dispatcher and the boyfriend:

Dispatcher: 911 emergency response.

Richard Kimball: Hello, my girl friend…just she's… I can't find her.

Dispatcher: Where are you now sir?

Richard: Um…uh…22nd and Main

Dispatcher: I'm sending a squad car there now, now what's happened sir?

Richard: My girlfriend and I had a fight, she got out of my car, I circled the block, just, I only wanted her to get a little scared; but when I came around, I couldn't find her…just… I was only gone a few minutes, she couldn't have gotten far ahead of me.

Dispatcher: Alright sir, a squad car is only a few minutes away.

Richard: Wait there she is!!

Dispatcher: You see her?

Richard: Hey get the hell off her!!

Dispatcher: Sir, sir?

End of Call

It felt more eerie to read, than it could have actually been, being there. "Creepy."

"Yeah, I've heard the actual recording. You could hear a glove compartment open, and well let's just say you know you've been in the business too long when you know the sound of a .45 cal being cocked over a phone.

"They found both of them twenty minutes later. The girl had been shot with a gun with her boyfriend's finger prints all over it, registered to him, at far range. The boy had a shot to the head, close range."

"So, the boyfriend killed her, and then committed suicide?"

"There were clear signs of a struggle; but looked like the struggle had taken place before the first shot."

"So the boyfriend, tried to hit whatever had her…"Dean started.

"…if something did." Sam cut in.

"Missed, hit her, than popped himself in the head?" Dean finished.

"Sounds like. People were wondering if maybe, he shot her on purpose, just called it in like that to make it look like an accident." Jackie said, shaking her head.

"But then why kill himself?" Sam asked.

"Exactly. I swept the place over after the police were done. EMF was lighting up like a Christmas tree, and sulfur all over the place."

"So it was demonic?" Dean asked.

"Or an unbelievable coincidence," Sam stated.

"Dude coincidence is the word non-hunters use to explain what hunters see."

Dean laughed.

"So a week later, the story was spreading like wildfire. Then there was a wave of 'sightings'. All the neighborhood kids reported it. Kept saying it was the monster that had attacked her the night before. It was popping up all over the place. The police thought it was some kind of joke. All these kids, every one of them friends of the couple that was killed, all calling in saying Alicia's monster had tried to attack them."

"A joke?" Sam asked.

"That's just it. I swept over all of the 'sightings' myself, all of them had EMF through the roof, and sulfur everywhere, I couldn't believe the police hadn't caught onto it."

"So they were all legit?" Dean asked.

"That's the way it's looking." She unfolded a map, covered in a dozen little red x's.

"Is there a pattern?" Sam asked. She picked up a pen and drew a more less straight line through the x's from left to right. "It's like a path," Sam observed.

"Heading this way," Dean noticed.

"Yep. But I've been through those files a dozen times. Before now, there has never been a," she grabbed a sheet of paper and read from it, "man described as a 'figure' with red eyes, that walked with a limp, that shamelessly declared who will be its next victim. No recent violent deaths, I'm stumped."

"And this all happened after the couple died?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, there are a lot of little disagreements on appearance but its all uniform in that it's a man with red eyes a limp and it always says who it will attack next."

"Well that's considerate." Dean remarked. "What's been the cause of death on the fatalities?"

"That's the weirdest part. Whenever there are fatalities it's a group, it always seems like they did the attacking."

"Like the couple?" Sam asked.

"Yes." They all sat in silence for a moment.

"Just a simple haunting?" Dean asked, quoting her earlier.

"Maybe I warped the truth just a little bit," she said with a wicked grin. "Who's up for dinner?"

"Great I'm starved!" Dean admitted.

Sam rolled his eyes, only Dean and apparently Jackie could switch from hunter to hungry person so fast.

"I'm not hungry," Sam denied.

"You sure?" Jackie said disbelievingly.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean frowned for half a moment. "Okay we'll bring you home something," he offered rising. Sam had to stop himself from raising his eyebrows.

Jackie stood too. "Okay, help yourself to anything in the fridge; um internet and TV are yours." She walked towards the entryway, Dean following. She slipped some leopard pumps on and grabbed her purse off the table. Dean opened the door and held it for her, catching a stern glance from Sam.

"You sure Sam doesn't want us around?" Jackie asked.

"Yeah, trust me, he's got a lot on his mind, he'll just be pounding away at his laptop or loafing around thinking." Dean promised.

"Heaven forefend," she teased putting the back of a hand to her forehead.

"Ha, ha, shut up," Dean said sarcastically with a smile on his face.

"Cool, I know a great pizzeria," she said, putting on a jacket. "Should we see what Sam wants?"

"Ham and pineapple," Dean answered immediately.

She laughed. "Fruit on a pizza?" she said feigning disgust.

"I know! That's what I'm always telling him!" Dean said.

"Your favorite is meat lovers right?" she asked, trying to remember from when they were kids.

Dean laughed, "Yep." His phone vibrated, he had a text message.

From: Sammy

Going to put the

moves on her?

Sent: 7:21 P.M., July 17th

Dean looked at the windows; Sammy was staring sternly at him with his eyebrows raised from the window. As soon as Jackie was turned away he put away the smile and drew a thumb across his throat.

From: Dean

Y? You jealous?

Btw who still

"puts the moves"

on anyone?

Sent: 7:22 P.M., July 17th

He smiled again as he turned back around.

"You finally got the Impala!" she said laughing.

"Emphasis on finally!" Dean said. Nothing was going to happen tonight other than seeing maybe the only friend he had ever had during his childhood….right?

Dean walked towards the Impala. "Let's take mine," she called walking towards the garage.

"You better not be ashamed of my car," he called pocketing his keys and following.

"You kidding? I love that car. I just know there's no way in hell you're gonna let me drive." She punched a code into the garage door, and it started to open. She turned towards him and leaned against the frame.

"Damn straight," Dean admitted. Dean could only whistle when the door opened. Inside was a red 2004 mustang convertible

"Behold! My impala!" she called as she hopped over the door into the driver's seat.

"Guess we both got the cars we wanted," Dean said following suit.

"Well ideally I would have a different color for every outfit," she shrugged and started the engine. "Que sera, sera."

"Say what?" Dean asked?

She drove out. "What will happen will happen and what won't won't."

"You really believe that?" Dean asked, the car cruising smoothly down the road.

"No," Jackie she answered honestly, a little sadly, "but that's not to say I don't want to," glancing over at Dean.

"So give me a run down of," she made a tsking sound as she thought, "ten or eleven years of your life. Short version please!" she added quickly.

Dean smiled, "well, traveled around with dad until about two years ago, just hunting. Then one day he didn't come back from a job. I called in Sammy, convinced him I needed his help to find dad. He was at Stanford; but he lost his girlfriend, and didn't really want to stick around any more."

"Fair enough,' she commented soberly.

"Yeah. So we did a ton of jobs for a while, eventually we caught up with Dad, who disappeared off the grid as soon as he appeared, for good this time," Dean said, ascetically.

"I'm sorry Dean. That really bites. How'd he go?" she couldn't help asking.

Dean paused. "The yellow eyed demon," he answered. She seemed to know that wasn't the entire truth; but she said nothing.

"I don't expect it to help; but I don't think he could have looked himself in the mirror if he had never done anything to try and avenge your mother," she offered.

"Yeah I know," Dean admitted.

"But it doesn't help," she conceded. "It's just trying to glorify death really." She had her eyes trained to the road, like she was deep in thought.

"We got him," Dean said turning toward her. "Sam and I caught up with the demon and killed him."

She looked over at him, assenting with a small smile, nodding.

"What about you?" he asked. Strange that he had tried to be honest to her, and only about half of the past two years had come out.

"Hunted with dad until I was eighteen. Then my mom died." Dean looked over at her. He had only gotten to know her sparingly; but he knew she hated her mother more than anyone.

Her expression was harsh, "I didn't care. She died to me the day she left us, but she left me the house. Why, I have no idea. I wanted to burn it or have it demolished," she said frankly. "Dad told me to rent it out, but keep it. Said I might want it someday. And I guess he was right. I got of rid of anything in there that left any allusion to her memory; because all I wanted was the house," her face was set.

"Dad wasn't so pleased," she smiled a little, "somehow he'd found a way to forgive her.

"I sort of wanted to be on my own after that. I saw him every now and again, wrote him like crazy. Then one day he didn't write back. I went, found out he died on a job, a couple of wendigos. He thought there was only one," she said sadly, saying it like he had sealed his fate."

"Likewise on the whole that bites thing," Dean answered, trying to _sound_ sympathetic though he didn't have to try to _be_ it.

"I hunted them down, got every one of 'em. Then I hunted on my own for a while. After a while though," she breathed shallowly, and flexed her hands on the steering wheel. "I just," another breath that sounded like a sigh, "I just needed some time to think." Her voice was soft.

"Our lives suck," Dean said good-humoredly, though not disrespectfully.

"Huh, true dat!" she said looking over, glad for a change of subject.

They kept conversation much more casual, talking about some of their last jobs, until they got to the pizzeria. They grabbed two slices and one to-go for Sam.

"Want to catch a movie?" Dean asked.

"If you promise not to get beat up again," she looked over unabashedly.

"Hey! I was 15 and there were like eight of them!" Dean defended.

She tsked, "Maybe six."

He smiled when she turned away. "Scary to meet someone who knew me when I was a kid."

"Pasha, pasha, least they don't come break down _your_ door after 10 years," she accused playfully.

All of a sudden Dean was reminded of the reason they were here. They had come to save her life.

"So Jackie, a friend of mine was thinking of buying in this area, know any houses with a good pool? Like a really nice pool house?" Dean asked, reverting to his lying tone of voice.

Jackie looked over at him with raised eyebrows as she pulled into the parking lot. "You're lying to me Dean," she said frankly.

"Yeah, answer anyway," Dean encouraged.

After giving him a weird look she responded, "Yeah, um a few of my neighbors..." She started laughing.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I still can't believe I have neighbors!" she laughed pulling into a space.

Dean's phone started ringing, it was Sam.

"I'll grab tickets," Jackie offered.

"Thanks," Dean said answering his phone. "What's up Sam?"

"How much do you know about this girl?" Sam asked immediately.

"Why, what's wrong?" Dean asked.

"She was burning photos of her and some guy, in the fireplace."

"So?" Dean asked.

"They're wedding pictures." Dean's heart was gripped, he ignored it.

"So?" he asked.

"Dean, it's the same guy from my vision."

"The drowning one?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"You're sure."

"Yes."

"And I found the pool house," Sam offered.

"How?" Dean asked.

"Google Earth. It's on her street a few blocks away."

"So the creature's going to go after, that guy?" Dean asked, not wanting to say the name.

"I don't know Dean; I don't think this is just a simple haunting."

"Yeah, I'm getting more and more of that. Listen we know where it's going to be, we just need to know when its gonna be there."

"Yeah but how?"

"Okay we know if we don't interfere than what you see in your visions will happen, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we just need to find a sign that hasn't been changed by our interference."

"Like what?" Sam asked.

"Um the backyard, were there any plates on a table, a hose left on the lawn?"

"No. Wait what about what Jacquelyn was wearing?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, yeah! That'll do it! We just wait until she wears the clothes you saw her die in and then we know it'll be there the night she wears it."

"Wow that sounds weird."

"Yeah, okay."

"What about the guy?" Sam asked.

"I'll ask her about him, tonight." Dean resigned, and hung up. Jackie walked over with tickets and popcorn.


	5. The Husband

"Hey," she handed him his ticket.

"Thanks," he grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it in his mouth.

"You okay?" she asked when they found seats.

"Fine," Dean lied.

_Your lying again_, she thought.

"You seem distracted," she offered him some more popcorn.

"I'm fine."

By the end of Live Free Die Hard, Dean had forgotten all about his promise to find out about Jackie's…husband.

"I actually lost track of all the explosions," Jackie said jumping into her convertible.

"I know! Awesome, and when he shot himself, so cool!" Dean had found his new God to replace Jessica Biel.

"And the creepy Asian chick!"

"Enough of this kung-fu crap!" Dean imitated.

Jackie drove Dean past her house, Dean asked where they were going, you'll see was all she said. When they got near the top of the hill Jackie told Dean to close his eyes. Dean resisted but gave in. She drove another minute and the uphill slope leveled out.

"Okay, now get out of the car," she instructed.

Dean did, and she walked around towards his side of the car, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front of the car. "Okay, now open."

Dean opened his eyes and saw possibly the greatest view he had seen since the Grand Canyon. It was the whole city laid out in front of them and every light was shinning, headlights on the freeway, neon downtown. It was really amazing looking.

"I love it up here," Jackie said sadly.

"I can see why," Dean responded. She leaned against the hood, her hands in her pockets. Dean followed suit.

"It's been really nice to see you again, Dean," she said honestly, a little vulnerably.

"You too," Dean responded harshly.

"Dean, what's wrong?" she asked plainly.

"Nothing," he spat out.

"You're lying to me," she said softly.

"I'm only returning the favor."

"What? What did I do Dean?" she asked like it was an accusation.

"Don't you know?"

"NO! I'm not hustling you! You're lying to me and it's starting to tick me off!"

"What's your point?" he asked viciously.

"Are we playing password or something? Keep talking I'll speak up when I have some idea what you're talking about!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" Dean yelled, righting himself off the hood of the car, turning to face her. "You tell me about your mother, your dad's death, but you leave out the fact you got married? Why wouldn't you mention that?" Dean accused his face harsh. Jackie stared right back at him her expression hard.

"Why wouldn't you just ask me? Why do you stay short with me the whole movie, why not just ask?"

"Why make me ask?" Dean pushed. "Answer the question!"

"Because my husband is dead," she almost whispered. Her eyes were shinning in the darkness, like she was getting ready to cry, though she made no move to.

_Smooth Dean_, he thought, it was tempting to pick up a rock and beat himself out of his misery.

"Six months ago. I hunted with my husband; my dad even came to the wedding. We were after a vampire in Vermont. I left to grab some dinner, came back he was gone. I heard shouting from the pool at the motel. I ran in, the vampire was standing by watching him die. He was drowning, tangled in a volley ball net.

He hated water, but he was a great swimmer. I jumped in to save him," a single tear raced down her cheek unbidden, and she stared at the lights of the city not even looking at Dean who was leaning against the mustang again. "I wasn't fast enough." She sniffed.

"The vampire turned towards me, told me I was next. I grabbed the gun my husband had dropped; the bullets were coated with dead man's blood. Shot him. Then I turned to my husband. He was dead," she glanced at Dean. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you; but I don't like to mention it if I don't have to," she was calm, and sincere.

"No, no I'm sorry, I…have no idea why I just asked that," that wasn't entirely true, but it was sincere.

Jackie reached at the neck of her shirt and pulled out a silver chain, undid the clasp in the back and let it fall into her hand. She handed it to Dean without looking at it. It was a real silver chain, on it were four items: an engagement ring, a wedding ring, a crucifix, and a man's photo in a heart shaped locket.

Dean shook his head; he couldn't believe he had believed that she might have been hiding a marriage from him. "Jackie I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Dean its fine. I understand. You had every right to harbor suspicion." She sounded like she really meant it.

He stared at the ornate crucifix. "You really believe in this stuff?" he brandished it.

She shook her head, "no," she was crying now, unbidden tears coursing down her cheeks, which she couldn't stop. "He did though. Taylor..." she paused. "You know I never really talked about it with anyone," she laughed sadly. "It's okay Dean." She righted herself, and shivered violently in the wind, trying to stop herself crying.

Dean righted himself and took off his leather jacket, handing it to her before sitting again. "You want to talk, I want to listen," he said honestly.

She wiped the tears off her face before slipping on the jacket, and sitting again.

"Taylor always believed that there was something more to life. The cross was his; he wore it everyday. When things were getting hard he always told me, that we were doing the right thing. You know how questions come up with the police, how did you know she was in danger?" she imitated, "how did you get here in time?" shaking her head, and sighing.

"Taylor always said that what we were doing was right, we were saving lives, lives, and that there was no higher calling.

"When I wanted to give up he said we had to do our best and God would take care of everything else, and that he would give us justice. He had such faith. I used to ask how he could believe in something he couldn't see. He said he couldn't see God, but he could see the good he'd done in people's lives; and he could feel," she sobbed, "that he could feel God, and knew what we were doing was right, whenever he looked at me.

"He was such a good person; people felt better just being around him. He didn't drink or smoke or…" she trailed off.

"You know my father's side of the family were drunks. If I had ever started I never would have been able to stop. When he came in to my life he told me I was doing the right thing, something I had never been sure of." She alternated looking at Dean and watching the lights.

"A few weeks ago, I was burning some of our old pictures, terrible I know," she admitted, "but I was obsessive, couldn't stop looking at them. Suddenly I just started shouting. I started yelling at God," she said bluntly with a cold humor. "How could you do that to him? Where is the justice now? Why take him? What did he do to deserve this?" her voice was calm for such a personal and emotional experience.

"I hated God; I hated him for taking my husband from me. God I hated him! I hated him! I hated him!" she said growing louder and standing and Dean had a feeling that it wasn't past tense.

She took a shallow breath that was meant to be deep, and ran a hand through her hair, before sitting again.

"It's so much easier to lose someone if it's someone's fault. For I while I blamed Taylor, for going after the vampire, for I while I blamed myself for not swimming faster, but I knew it wasn't any one's fault, so I blamed God. Because it was a lot easier than dealing with the loss.

"I was yelling so loud, like I could make him listen. And suddenly I stopped, and I had this indescribable feeling of calm, I could see clearly and I understood that I knew Taylor had to die someday, I was just pretending I didn't because I missed him so badly.

"That day, I could feel Taylor's presence. If I hadn't been there I wouldn't have believed it. I could just feel him, the way he made me feel when he was around; I don't know how to describe it. But it was like I just couldn't see him. And then this thought came into my mind, clearer than anything I've ever thought, like someone else had spoken it," she sobbed again harder, "you can't hate God and not believe in him at the same time.

"I knew; and I knew that I always had known. I knew I didn't believe in God; but I believed in Taylor and I knew he was sure. I knew I understood he had to die, I was just angry, so I blamed God. And I knew that Taylor was still lingering, watching over me like he always had," she wiped away tears.

"He was waiting for me to be at peace so he could move on. I could almost hear his voice. He told me he knew it was hard; but I had to keep hunting. That he had been rewarded for his service, and only now could he appreciate the ability to help people no one else could. That he wouldn't have traded it for anything and that it was priceless, that I couldn't give my gift up so I could mourn him and punish God, because I was hurting everyone else. He told me to keep going, to forgive God, and to know we had to do the best we could and that God would take care of the rest."

She looked at Dean, "and I believe that." Dean was silent, he didn't believe in God, but he didn't believe Jackie was crazy, but that maybe she really had heard the voice of her husband.

She turned her head and started crying; Dean stood and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shirt. He didn't know what to believe

"God I miss him Dean, I miss him so much," she sobbed, holding him back.

He stayed silent, holding her tight against his chest. "Que sera, sera," was all he said; positive he was butchering the accent.

"Taylor taught me that," she said. Dean was patient, letting her cry until she stopped. He knew how she was feeling.

It sent him thinking back to his father and the injustice he had felt at his death. There was nothing reasonable about losing someone to a demon or supernatural force; he knew the feeling of unfairness. And too much for comfort rang true about not being able to hate God and not believe in him at once. But eventually Jackie stopped crying; she pulled back from him, and wiped the tears off her face, her expression sad but serene somehow.


	6. It's called a Figment

"Taylor was amazing; I wish you could have met him."

"He sounds like a cool guy," in reality he wasn't sure what to make of the faithful, non-alcoholic hunter, that Jackie had married.

"You're bad at sympathizing," she said smiling a little.

"Sorry," Dean apologized.

"It's okay Dean, thanks for listening," she said and she gave him a friendly hug. Which was over before Dean had enough time to process what had happened; but she didn't seem like it made her feel awkward, so he ignored it.

She sat again and Dean followed. "So you want to hear what really happened to me since I saw you last?" he asked blandly.

She gave a chuckle, "yeah I would Dean." It freaked him out a little bit but it seemed like she meant it. "Sad how when hunters try to talk about their past, it's really just deciding what each person has earned the right to know."

He launched into the story of everything, he started out meaning to keep come things hidden but by the end he'd spilled it all. He'd told her about the demon, Sammy's abilities, the children like Sam, his dad's death, and finally about the deal he'd made with the crossroads demon.

"Oh Dean," she said so softly, like she'd only exhaled.

He'd risked a glance at this point. She had a look of pity and understanding.

"Stupid right?" he asked.

"Dean, I know what it's like to love someone enough to be willing to sacrifice yourself for them," she sad sadly. "But you've gotta have some faith. I refuse to believe that this is your time to go." She said determinedly.

"Faith in what?" he asked harshly. "I'm not like you, I can't believe with all the bad out there, that there is some supreme force of good, who sits by and watches it all." He said louder than he meant to. She was silent.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment.

"It's okay. But don't apologize for what you mean," she said. "I used to ask Taylor these same questions."

"What did he say?"

"Faith isn't the ability to believe what you can't see; it's the ability to hold tightly to the little bits of light in a sea of darkness. That you have to give yourself over to faith for it to work, you've gotta set yourself up for what you know will be a disappointment if you want to feel anything."

"Sorry; but it sounds like Taylor had a charmed life," Dean responded.

"Trust me, his life sucked more than both of ours. His mom abandoned him and after he ran away from one of his foster homes he met his dad who told him he didn't want him. Then he got attacked by a spirit, almost died."

"Funny how bad childhoods make for good hunters," Dean observed humorlessly.

"It's not really strange. We're the people who will take motel lighting because we get to change our lives, rather than watch them change. We're angry enough to hunt, we're hurt enough to run, and we're afraid enough to keep running."

"True," Dean admitted. It was hard to be like this. Open enough to let someone into your worries, but how can thinking about things like that make you feel open? "I have one year," he said.

"Dean don't give up on yourself. If you only wanted to live as much as you wanted Sammy to, you would have figured a way out of this two weeks ago."

"I'm scared," Dean admitted. "I don't regret what I did. But I know if I start looking for an answer, it's gonna be twice as hard when I don't find one." He said.

"Like your setting yourself up for a disappointment?" she asked.

Dean nodded.

"Dean, but not trying only leaves you in the same place. It's okay to fall sometimes cause that means you were brave enough to climb."

"How can you stay so damn optimistic after everything that's happened to you? Your mother left you, your dad, your brother, and your husband are dead, and those are the only important people you've ever had in your life," Dean asked, realizing the saddest part was the last bit.

"Dean you're still looking at the sea of darkness," she said with a gentle chiding note in her voice, unshaken by what he'd said.

"I'm sorry I don't see any light in there," Dean shrugged.

"Course not, he's sitting right next to me," she put her head on his shoulder. "Don't give up Dean, I know you can find a way," she said.

"Thanks Jack," Dean put his arm around her shoulders and they sat in complete silence for an hour, before jumping in the car and heading back to the house.

When they got back to the house Sam was still typing at his laptop.

"Well I'm gonna go crash," Jackie warned them, tossing Sam his pizza.

"Okay, we'll go grab a motel," Dean said.

"Don't be ridiculous," she laughed walking up the stairs. "This place is huge! Being here by myself creeps me out anyway! There are like six extra bedrooms down the hall, just pick two."

"Thanks Jackie," both Dean and Sam called up at once.

She laughed, "It's like having the doublemint twins in my house!"

"Did she just compare us to blonde girls on skates?" Sam asked his eyes still on the computer.

Dean laughed.

Sam looked up at him with his eyebrows raised. "What? It was funny, ha you as a blonde."

"Sometimes Dean your naivety astounds me," he said passionlessly.

"So what did you find out?" Dean asked, ignoring the last remark.

"Who said I found out anything?" Sam asked.

"That little I'm so smart smile on your face," Dean answered.

"Well at any rate I did." He pulled out John's journal, and flipped to a marked page. On it there was some obscure writing and a picture of a cloaked figure, like a ring wraith or dementor. "I recognized the picture, and everything else fell into place. It's called a figment. It alters people's perceptions of reality, to make them scared, then feeds on their fear. It picks its victim by declaring who they will be, then the victim gets a mark on their wrist." He pointed to what looked like an Arabic symbol. "No one who has been declared a victim has ever survived."

"Good, I like a challenge," Dean muttered.

"Well these things don't ever use brute force to kill someone, they're subtle. They alter someone's perceptions and usually get someone else in the room to do their dirty work."

"Like all the 'homicides'," Dean finished.

"Yeah."

"So the one girl, who just saw a scary movie, saw the thing…"

"…and it made itself look like the guy from the movie, cause that's what it thought would scare her most."

"Then her boyfriend showed up and it left."

"It had already decided she was its next victim, so it went after her again. She must have told her boyfriend about the first time, so he was probably a little freaked out to."

"So when he saw her getting attacked by the thing, he shot it."

"But the figment had only made it looked like she was getting attacked. At which point he figured out he'd killed his girlfriend and thought he was crazy."

"Then all these other kids who were freaked out by the story of 'Stacy's ghost' were next."

"Yep, it all makes sense. These things are creepy. They can dissipate and turn into shadow, to reappear moments later. They can't project an illusion outside of the room they're in; but they can enter a room and make themselves unseen. There's a whole list on the back page about what _might_ kill them."

"Might?" Dean asked apprehensively.

"Might, there's a ton of lore about these things but not a whole lot is known," Sam affirmed.

"So in your vision," Dean started.

"I saw what Jacquelyn was seeing; her greatest fear must being losing a loved one by drowning. Speaking of which did you ask her who the guy was?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. It _was_ her husband," Dean said wincing a little bit.

"Was?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, they hunted together; he died a few months ago, drowned in a motel swimming pool under a volley ball net, a vampire pushed on him."

"Wow," Sam finally looked up from the laptop; it wasn't hard to conjure up some sympathy. "The vampire decided to drown him?" he asked incredulously.

Dean looked over with a slow paranoid glance, "wow Sammy your sympathy knows no bounds."

"So what else do you know about her?" Sam asked.

"Why's it matter?" Dean asked.

"I'm curious," Sam said dispassionately, while he turned off the computer.

"Her mom ditched her and her dad when she was three. This is her house. Jackie's dad was a good hunter, went with dad on a few trips.

"Her brother died years ago. He was older, the family, meaning them and their dad, were driving in the car when they got hit by a drunk driver, she got a nasty scar, dad got hospital for a week, her brother didn't make it. Her dad never drank again and she never started. And now you know as much as I do." He remembered the day she had told him about the crash, she'd showed him the scar that ran up her calf, she'd cried, revealed it was the first time she had in years and years.

Dean thought about it. Jackie was tough, too tough for her own good. You could probably count the times she'd cried on one hand. The more he thought about it he realized, she didn't even cry in front of her dad; but she trusted Dean enough to not crack jokes.

"But you guys were friends as kids, huh?" Sam pushed.

"I guess, but why…" Dean looked over at him; the look on his face was enough for Dean to get his drift. "No, don't even bring that up," he ordered.

"Dean I didn't say anything."

"Sammy, take that theory and salt and burn it."

"Dean, just don't get in over your head, we can't stay."

"Back to the case please?" Dean said. It was more of an order than a request.

"Well we know the creature's gonna mark her as its next victim; but we have to stop it before it can."

The phrase was somewhat familiar to Dean, mark as a victim. He remembered Jackie saying something like that. "The vampire turned towards me, told me I was next."

"Damn it Sammy," he swore.

Sam was about to ask what when an audible scream sounded from upstairs.

"Jackie!" Dean yelled. Sam grabbed a gun from his bag and sprinted up the stairs after Dean. "Jackie!"


	7. After You Trip

At the top of the stairs was a hallway, several doors on either side, only one was open. Dean ran to it. He jumped around the door frame, in time to catch sight of Jackie swinging a fire poker through the creature. It dissipated like a spirit, before reappearing behind Jackie.

Sam came bounding through the door and shot at it. The bullets made the creature lose its form again. Dean ran in and grabbed Jackie's shoulders pulling her back from the danger into the hall; while Sam moved forward, keeping the gun aimed at the creature, ready to shoot if it assumed its form again.

"Jackie you okay?" Dean asked when they were in the hallway, hand on her head.

She seemed pretty freaked out, but she readily responded, with a heaving breath "yeah I'm fine."

Dean was relieved; suddenly he remembered his last thought. He grabbed her wrist and turned it over, nothing.

"What is it Dean?" she asked thoroughly confused.

He grabbed the other, and saw the brown mark before turning her wrist.

"Damn it!" he snapped.

"Do you know what the hell that is?" she asked eagerly.

Dean glanced up at the room occupied by Sam and the figment. "Stay here okay?" he ordered without waiting for a response.

Dean walked in in time to see the black particle's of the figment's disembodied form going through a window.

"Damn!" he swore again. "Sam give me the gun!" Dean called. Sam tossed it to him carefully.

"Dean you can't go after it! We don't even know what kills it!" Sam called, at Dean who was already walking away.

Dean turned for only a moment, "it's already marked her! I'm ending this!"

Sam recognized the determination in Dean's eyes, it was idiotic, but there was no stopping him. "I'm coming too!" he called.

Dean was already out the door. "No! Stay with Jackie!" he ordered over his shoulder.

Jackie started after Dean when he passed her but Sam grabbed her shoulders. "You can't go out there," he said, even though he wished they could have.

"It'll kill Dean, we can't just sit here!" she said desperately.

"Dean'll be fine," he said with more conviction than he felt.

Jackie shrugged his shoulders off and started pacing, suddenly she grabbed at her right arm, which had a deep cut running down it, she said nothing as she looked at the crimson blood on her hand.

"You have a first aid kit?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, downstairs in the kitchen," she said. Sam went to go get it. It took him a moment to find; but when he came back upstairs Jackie was no where to be found.

Sam sighed, thoroughly ticked off, and picked up his phone and called Dean.

"Sam?" Dean asked from the other end.

"Yeah, where are you?" he asked.

"Going through some backyards, trying to figure out where the thing ran off to. Jackie okay?"

Sam huffed, "she left."

"What?! You were supposed to watch her!" Dean yelled angrily.

"I know! I was only gone for a second. I'm coming to find you."

"NO! Go find her. I'll try and find the figment. Wait!" silence over the line, like he had found something. Sam's heart started pounding. "Damn it Jackie I almost shot you!" he could barely hear.

"She's right here Sammy. We're moving through backyards heading north."

"I'll find you," Sam assured him, and hung up.

"Look I'm not waiting back there! This is my hunt," Jackie said, putting a new magazine in the handgun she'd grabbed. A flood light went off in the backyard they were in. Both silently made their way across the yard under the trees and jumped a fence easily.

"Look Jackie, I don't even know what kills this thing! That mark on your wrist means your next. This thing's been following you from Vermont; it wasn't a vampire it just looked like one."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she whispered.

"You gotta get back there!" Dean snapped. Lights went on in the house behind them. They both went over another two fences, Jackie whispering the whole time.

"Dean I am a hunter I am not running away! Besides if I'm next then it'll just catch me on the way back. Besides," they hopped over a fence, she brandished her gun, "silver bullets might just do the trick."

She had him caught.

"Fine; but stay behind me!" Dean ordered.

It didn't take long to systematically eliminate the backyards. By the time Sam had caught up with them, they had long given up, until Sam pointed out the pool house from his vision. That was more than enough for Dean, though they left Jackie feeling rather confused.

It was completely silent as they snuck into the yard. They started checking the bushes, and when Sam looked over at Jackie his breath caught. She was doing exactly what she had been in his vision. He walked quietly over to Dean. "Dean, this is my vision."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" he whispered.

"She's doing exactly what she did in my vision. It's happening now. Somehow we've just changed the circumstances of the attack and not the specifics."

"Okay so what do we do?" Dean asked.

"If we don't do anything than what I saw happening will happen. We have to wait until she gets the figment in the pool house then we have to get in there before she tries to jump in the water and save her drowning husband."

"Dude, how long does it take you to figure out that fishing doesn't work out so well for the bait!?" he snapped. He looked over at Jackie; she had her hand on the door handle of the pool house.

"Too late now," Sam pointed out when she threw open the door.

"Damn it!" Dean swore.

"Okay, I'll grab her when she makes for the pool, you get the gun with the silver bullets," Dean ordered.

Sam nodded, they were playing Russian roulette, but the gun wasn't pointed at them.

They walked hurriedly to the pool house and peeked in around the door. She was still clearing the place. The figment was standing next to the pool, unseen by Jackie.

"We've gotta move quickly," Sam whispered.

Jackie's head swiveled towards the pool, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Sam held up three fingers, Dean nodded. "One…." She stared at the water intently, "two…."she dropped the gun, "three!" the figment's head jerked towards them as Dean sprinted at Jackie, and grabbed her around the waist. Sam went for the gun she'd launched halfway across the room, simultaneously sinking a shot at the figment, causing it to go to its disembodied form, the particles trying to pull back together.

As soon as they entered the room they could partially see what the figment was projecting. But the image was flickering. It was like seeing through a strobe light, every other image was a man drowning in the water and every other word was him calling out for help.

"Dean let me go!" Jackie called, her voice echoing across the room. "He's drowning!" she was struggling against Dean and it was all he could do to hang onto her.

"Jackie it's not real!" Dean tried to yell over her.

"Dean he's drowning I have to save him!" Dean dragged her away from the pool.

"Jacquelyn! Help me!" the man called.

"Jackie, listen to me, he's not real! It's a figment!"

All the while he could only watch as the man was drowning.

The particles of the figment were pulling back together to create a solid form. Sam had the gun and was waiting for it to pull together. A shot rang out; suddenly the image of the man in the pool flickered harder and faded away. Jackie stopped struggling; but Dean didn't let go of her.

He turned to look at the figment. It was frozen in time for a moment, before it turned to the three of them.

"Damn," Dean muttered.

"Yeah, silver doesn't kill it!" Sam called. "Get out!"

The figment rose off the ground, Dean turned and tried to pull Jackie out the door.

"Jackie!" he yelled; but she was stationary, a look of fury on her face. And all of a sudden as the figment started to rise into the air, a potted plant behind it burst into flame, just as Jackie jerked her head. Her expression cleared into shock and her hands went to her mouth. Dean was able to pull her back towards the door.

The figment hissed and shrieked, recoiling from the bright flame, before it dissipated and slipped under a crack in the door, into the darkness. The next few moments were precaution, actions you take purely on habit. A time where you can't think only replay the last shocking scene over and over in your mind, like the feeling of falling after you trip; but before you hit the ground.


End file.
